


aim for the stars and you'll land on a sweaty dumbass

by apprenticenanoswarm



Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: M/M, Other, this is just some klyntar having a conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 06:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17136614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apprenticenanoswarm/pseuds/apprenticenanoswarm
Summary: a little, little goo with big, big dreams





	aim for the stars and you'll land on a sweaty dumbass

 

Young and filled with romantic notions, they fantasized that he or she or xe or they or it would be a quadruped. 

Four shining hoofs. Tall and imposing, yes, yes. And covered in striped fur.

**“No, no, no,”**  an elder told them.  **“You don’t want fur. Hard to clean. Quick to accrue parasites and filth. You want _scales_ , small one. Take my word for it. Scales won’t ever let you down.”**

They saw the elder’s wisdom and adjusted their dream host to a scaly quadruped – with a long scaly tail to swing around. And horns! Oh, they  _had_  to have horns. Imagining galloping across the blue-green deserts to the west of the Acid Sea, great curved horns gleaming in the sunlight, serving as a perch for dozens of grateful lesser creatures.

A younger nestmate, nosy and prone to listening in on their dreams, chirped up:  **“Sibling, why a quadruped? Why legs at all? What if they break? Me, I want a serpent of some kind – at least fifty feet long! With pretty rippling patterns and golden eyes and…”**

**“A serpent? You’ll be stepped on,”**  the elder pointed out.  **“Imagine the indignity.”**

Their nosy nestmate whined that they’d take care not to be stepped on, but they didn’t pay attention. They were entertaining a new notion; not ‘why legs?’, but ‘why  _only_  legs?’ Splendid as it would be to gallop, to charge at enemies and spear them with their majestic horns, surely it would be even better if they could attack from the air as well.

_Oh yes. Oh yes, yes, yes._

Wings. They would have four legs and four wings – no! Six wings. Two would be deepest black, two would be a dazzling white and speckled, and…

The elder sighed. **“Small ones. Heed me. You must be pragmatic. Choosing a long-term host is a serious business. Forget about golden eyes and wings and horns. Focus on the essentials. Health. Stamina. Teeth. But most of all, resilience. You need a host who can take a beating. Even if they’re ugly. Even if their bodies don’t appeal to your foolish vanity. When I go hunting, I search for the most scarred, tattered creatures I can find; the ones that smell like survival. You don’t want to pick some fancy quadruped and spend your life fixing its beautiful legs when they shatter. You want a host who will eat a cosmos full of shit, vomit it all out, and go back for seconds.”**

Respectfully, the two young symbiotes wriggled in understanding.

**“And scales,”**  the elder added.  **“Scales are a must-have. Let me tell you, there really is nothing worse than an infestation of lice.”**

 

0

 

He didn’t have scales. Or horns, or wings, or golden eyes. His teeth were pathetic nubs. He was soft, and ugly, and most of all he was sad. But by all the stars, could he take a beating.

“Okay,” Eddie wheezed. “That wasn’t so b-bad.”

Their silence was pointed as they extended their tendrils and started gathering up the six fingers the mobsters had sliced off.

“Really, I was expecting worse. I mean, it hurt, sure, not gonna lie. But we got the evidence! I’m proud of us.”

He really was. They could feel pride and adrenaline crackling through his brain like a house fire.

“This story’s going to matter, V. It’s gonna be big.”

**“Incautious,”**  they muttered, weaving his digits back onto his clumsy, scaleless hand.  **“Foolhardy. Reckless. Dumbass. Stupid dumpsterfire host. Stupid Eddie.”**

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

They recalled their dream host, their tall winged quadruped with its lethal tail and gleaming horns.

It probably wouldn’t have called them ‘darling.’ And its brain wouldn’t have contained such an extensive library of colorful insults for them to throw at it.

**“Useless loser. Shitheel. Worst host ever. Moron. Clown. Will leave you for a centipede.”**

“A centipede, huh? Might get stepped on.”

**“Your _face_  might get stepped on. Idiot hopeless fuckboy host.”**

“Heh. Love you too, sweetheart,” he cooed, petting them with his newly-restored fingers.

Probably wouldn’t have said things like that either.

**“Love Eddie. Stupid Eddie. Love stupid Eddie. Fuckboy.”**

 


End file.
